It Goes Around
by Skarrow
Summary: Falkner's injuries can't be fixed with rehab, and Clair isn't exactly the most comforting person to talk to about that. Or is she? [Challenge hosted by Pokemaniacs]


**A/N:** Challenge hosted by Pokemaniacs! Check my profile if you'd like a link.

Written mostly from Clair's point of view. Not beta'ed, so be prepared for disorganization, and grammar hiccups.

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In Goldenrod General Hospital, there is a certain floor where no medical treatments take place. It's usually close to empty, and it's so dreary it could drive any normal person crazy. If you are a resident of this floor, it means that you are beyond reach of modern medicine... you cannot be saved. It is on this particular floor Clair meets up with Falkner, who is getting discharged that very evening, and tells him that she will be escorting him back to Violet city.

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**It Goes Around  
**

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Never before has Clair felt so uncomfortable sitting next to another person in her whole life.

Glancing at the person in question out of the corner of her eye did nothing to ease this feeling. Falkner just looks so defeated, so lost as he stares outside the window at the dark streets passing by, that it makes Clair want to tear the money for the taxi fare apart. Whenever something bothers her, she normally responds with aggression and all the passion in her being, but this situation requires something she had limited resources in: patience.

Clair has no patience for foolish whelps who did nothing but mope. She believes in taking action to solve her problems, and she wouldn't dare rely on anyone else's help. But even with her rigid standards she could see that Falkner deserved a bit of time to mourn what he'd lost. Falkner was like her, in a way: he also believed in taking action to remedy whatever situation he'd found himself in instead of mooning over it. And right now... Clair couldn't see any actions available for him to take. And Falkner himself could certainly see the same thing.

To watch someone with similar principles as you get beat down so badly, and be left with nothing and nowhere to turn to... that's what's bothering Clair so greatly.

The cab ride continues on in choked silence just like this for a few more minutes, and then Falkner's commanding voice rings out through the darkness-

"Stop the car, right now."

"What?" Clair blurts out.

The driver sounds as surprised as Clair. "Y-you sure about that, sir? We're just over a bit halfway to your destination, and there won't be much traffic at this time of night so-"

"Stop the car," Falkner repeats, his voice sounding more and more dead with every syllable.

The cab screeches to a halt after the next turn.

Falkner shoves open the car door.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Clair hisses after her fellow gym leader, finally snapped out of her shock at the turn of events. "Falkner, get back in here! Falkner! Dammit...!"

Clair jumps out of the cab, yelling over her shoulder at the poor driver to wait before storming after Falkner into the night. Falkner is relying heavily on his crutches, and is in serious pain with every step on the sidewalk he takes but Clair can't help but think that he moves awfully fast for an injured man. She grabs him by his shoulder.

"Falkner-!"

He roughly jerks away and continues hobbling down the dark sidewalk. Clair feels her patience wearing even thinner. She stays put and watches the young officer as he continued his pathetic limping.

"Do you intend to walk the rest of the way back to Violet city like this?! I know you're distraught but for the love of god have some common sense!"

"I'm not going to Violet city!" Falkner shouts without turning around or stopping. Clair is surprised yet again, because this is the first time she has heard him speak with so much raw emotion tonight. His voice is hoarse, gutteral... it's like listening to a man who was drowning, with no way to save himself. "I'm not going back to Violet, ever!"

"What are you talking about?!" Clair marches right up to Falkner, maneuvering herself so she stands directly in his path. "If you plan on running away from your duties, Leader Falkner, then as Chairperson of the Union I'm afraid I'll have to relieve you."

"_Fine_!" Falkner shouts in her face. He tries to get around her but Clair is relentless. "I get it. I really do. The League doesn't need an invalid in their ranks! And they sure as hell don't need me!"

"No, you_ don't_ get it Falkner," Clair responds with equal fervor, jabbing her finger in his chest for emphasis. "You don't get it at all! So stop acting all high and mighty in your misery and get back in that taxi!"

"Then explain it to me," Falkner retorts bitterly. "Because I sure as hell don't get what the fuck you are trying to tell me, lady!"

Clair gasps, her hand automatically striking Falkner's cheek before her brain could give the order. "Curse me one more time and I'll force you back into the hospital," she threatens, her voice cold. "Get back in the taxi. Now."

"Get back in the taxi? For what?" Falkner's glare is equally frosty, but his voice has reverted back to the lifelessness Clair has been acquainted with since picking him up from the hospital. This is not the first time she has heard it but it disconcerts her all the same. "There's nothing left for me. Not in Violet city... and not anywhere else. My career as a gym leader is over. Everything I've worked so hard to achieve... all my efforts, wasted. My life is-"

He doesn't complete that last sentence, and his entire body sags from fatigue, from the incredible weight on his shoulders. A burden that Clair could barely begin to understand. She doesn't try to block him when he readjusts his grip on his crutches and limps around her because right now, Clair doesn't know what else to say to him. Falkner refuses to listen to reason, and he doesn't want to go home. She doesn't believe he wants to go back to that lonely private hospital room either.

Clair can't stop thinking about what he had almost told her: his life is over. She can't stop thinking about his condition. She can't stop thinking that this could have been her. It could have been her suffering right now, with everything she has ever loved snatched away.

What do you say to a man who has been tossed into a deep dark pit without preamble? Without any means of escape?

She closes her eyes and thinks harder.

Metaphorically speaking, what would catch her attention, if she were in Falkner's shoes?

Why is she even the one here with Falkner right now? Morty, Jasmine, Pryce or even Whitney would probably be better choices. So why did Pryce contact her out of all his acquaintances, to pick Falkner up from the hospital? Why is she being forced to weather through his misery?

Clair opens her eyes and turns around at last. Falkner is already a few yards away. Her irritation and unease with this situation is still present, and her patience is in tatters, but damn if she didn't have her fellow gym leader's best interests at heart. At the same time Clair decides to stop pretending to be Falkner's friend because she isn't, and because she isn't one for empty theatrics.

"So you don't plan on going back to Violet city anytime soon. Where are you headed, then?" Clair is used to addressing people across great distances, so her voice easily carries.

Falkner doesn't do anything to acknowledge her words and carries on down the concrete sidewalk.

She tries again. "Do you even know your way around Goldenrod, Falkner?"

This gets Falkner's attention like nothing else. He finally pauses mid-limp, but he still doesn't try to turn around.

Clair slowly approaches Falkner, stopping just a few paces behind. She tells him in a patronizing voice, "If you insist on continuing this childish charade, I'll have no choice but to _oblige_ you Leader Falkner. Where do you wish to go, if not home or the hospital?"

He doesn't offer a reply, and Clair has a hunch that Falkner has no idea where he's headed now, much less where he is. Literally and metaphorically speaking. Her irritation flares up again. She could sympathize with his pain and loss, but she could not accept his refusal to lift himself out of this rut, on his own terms.

Clair lays a firm hand on Falkner's shoulder. "Give me a minute to send away the cab, and I'll walk you to this cafe I haven't visited in a long while."

She gingerly lets go of him, partially mollified when he makes no visible effort to run away from her. Clair backtracks to the spot where the taxi is still parked and pays the sympathizing driver the fare, taking her time to count the correct amount. Even then, Falkner does not attempt to escape. Clair thinks that Falkner still has some sense left in his head despite all the warnings the doctor and the other gym leaders gave her.

But when Clair finally returns to Falkner's side, she recognizes something else lingering in his expression: defeat. It's the same emotion that was painted all over his face before at the hospital, and while riding in the taxi. At this point Falkner probably wouldn't care less about where Clair plans to drag him to. Clair sighs aloud and starts walking with purpose, her destination clear in her mind. To her satisfaction, Falkner is more or less keeping up with her despite the crutches and the fact that he'd just been discharged. She feels no need to walk slower for his benefit, and only stops to wait for him whenever they reach a street corner so she doesn't lose sight of him.

The sounds and sights of the night life are barely registered by the silent pair. Clair in particular doesn't believe in wasting her breath with idle talk, and she assumes Falkner isn't in the mood to chat either. She doesn't even take notice of how lively Goldenrod is at this late hour - it's all the same things to her, in all of the cities she has been to. Clair is completely focused on getting Falkner to the destination she had in mind...

Karma Cafe.

True to Clair's prediction Falkner doesn't say a word during the walk. He doesn't say anything when Clair coaxes him inside the cafe. He has no comments to offer when Clair orders a cup of tea for him without asking first. It's only when the man behind the counter serves their respective drinks at last does Falkner speak.

"No spoon?"

Clair pauses, both hands cradling her coffee mug. If Falkner hadn't pointed it out she wouldn't have noticed that he did not get a spoon to stir his tea with.

"Do you seriously expect me to do everything for you? Just ask for one yourself from... hmm?" To her surprise, the man who'd served them is nowhere in sight, and there is no one manning the counter either. "Well. Use your finger then," she amends after a moment. How he chose to deal with this little problem is none of her business.

"No other customers." Falkner glances around, and Clair is pleased to see a bit of emotion other than despair in his countenance. Even if it was suspicion.

"I've been told that that's normal at this time of night."

"No staff, either."

"What an intriguing observation."

Falkner gives Clair a retiring look. "You've anticipated this."

Clair relents. "Somewhat. I've only been to this cafe once before... and it left quite an impression." Inside, she feels satisfied for temporarily distracting Falkner. She knew he wouldn't be able to resist pulling a place as mysterious as this apart.

Falkner gently swishes the tea around in the cup to stir it before taking a sip. "Why have you brought me here?"

Clair sighs loudly. "Because you were acting like a stubborn preschooler, and I wanted to come here." She stares at him expectantly. "So let me ask you again, where did you want to go, if not home?"

Falkner shrugs, all signs of his alertness fading away. Clair grits her teeth and thumps her fist on the surface of the table.

"Do you plan on shaping yourself up anytime soon?" She asks him patronizingly. "Because frankly I am getting tired of watching you flail like some poor soap bubble on the breeze." When he doesn't acknowledge her words in any way, Clair just gets angrier. "You're pathetic, Falkner. Pathetic and pitiful! You've lost sight of yourself completely before you could really begin the battle. Watching you like this really pisses me off!"

To her ego's twisted satisfaction, Falkner returns the glare. "The hell do you care, anyways?" He seethes. "If you thought taking me to this cafe was going to make anything better then you are completely off the mark. I don't want your charity, and I sure as hell don't want your pity!"

"Pah! Perish the thought," Clair responds with equal venom. "If I had any pity to give you I'd eat it for dessert. I'd never share it with someone as self-centered as you!"

Clair recognizes all the visual clues he's giving: his closed off facial expression, his hunched shoulders, his empty eyes, the pale complexion of his skin... he is very close to his limit. Clair isn't entirely sure why she's baiting him this way; she just has this need to force a reaction out of him no matter what. To say something, even belittling him in the process, to break him open. She just wanted Falkner to speak, to talk about whatever it is that's bothering him and get over it so he can focus on recovering. Before he sank too low into the depths of his own depression.

"Know this, Falkner," Clair begins meaningfully. "In an alternate universe I would have smacked you without hesitation. But here I've decided to grace you with five minutes to correct yourself before I exact my punishment. Be thankful!"

Despite her threat, the next five minutes pass without incident. Falkner has gone completely quiet and morose again, and Clair's rage is still simmering underneath the calm facade she has adopted. Ten minutes tick by, and then fifteen... Twenty minutes later Clair has already finished her drink, and Falkner's leftover tea has gone cold. Outside the window, the night grows ever deeper and darker. There are hardly any cars passing by anymore. The awkward, tense silence that has settled over the gym leaders is deafening.

"In an alternate universe, I would have arrived at the World Tournament fifteen minutes before ten o'clock." Falkner's voice is so low, so hoarse and potent with emotion, that it pierces through the oppressive quiet. "I would have gotten to that parking space before that other driver, and I would have made it to the opening ceremonies on time."

Clair's body goes rigid and still, completely focusing on Falkner and his soliloquy.

"In an alternate universe, I would have given the other security guards a second chance," Falkner whispers. "I would have had more backup to help me... in an alternate universe I would have realized immediately that something about that final battle was wrong when I heard that Aerodactyl's howl." His words are coming out faster and faster, like the dam that had been holding back torrents of pent up emotions had splintered. "In an alternate universe, I wouldn't have made such a careless mistake, separating from the others without letting them know first. And they would have found me and gotten me to the hospital in time before..."

"Where would he be afterwards?" Clair says suddenly. She's trying to lead his train of thought away from his injuries. "Alternate Universe Falkner, I mean. Would he have immediately jumped on the case and brought the perp to justice?"

Falkner laughs dryly, not meeting her gaze. "Yeah. And I wouldn't have to be forced to face the citizens of Violet city, and my family, their cruelly kind smiles and words reminding me over and over what a failure I am. I would have then continued my pursuit and one day, I would have eventually become a true master of flying types."

"That sounds very promising." Clair has nothing much to say about that. It isn't as if she has any authority over what happens to Falkner in an alternate universe.

...But...

"But, what about you?" Clair wonders. "Current universe you. What are you doing?"

"...I'll probably leave this case to officers who are better suited to catching criminals, and turn in my badge," he admits. "I'll most likely have to start looking someone to take over the gym, as well."

"Quite a contrast. I honestly would have liked Alternate Universe Falkner better. He actually sounds like he's doing his job, as he should, instead of running away from it."

"Yes."

Just that one word. Just... Yes.

But Clair feels it is more than that. It sounds more like a conclusion Falkner has come to after many, many sleepless nights in the hospital and at home.

She glances down at his hands, folded together on the table. His left hand is covering his scarred right hand, as usual. She never thought about it before, but now she finds the action painful to see. Like her, Falkner wants to prove to the whole world that he is strong and capable... his injuries are obviously affecting him more than physically.

"You know what, Falkner? I've been thinking about this ever since we left the hospital." Clair leans forward. "Even while you're bogged down with crutches, you are awfully independent for a handicapped person."

Falkner is understandably wary of Clair's sudden mood shift. "Where are you going with this?"

"As far as I can tell, this" - Clair gestures at his crutches leaning on the wall - "is only a minor setback. So what if you've been delayed a few weeks, or a year? There's nothing stopping you, Current Universe You, from becoming a pokemon master and from bringing the bastard who did this to you to justice. That is, if you still have the will to do so, then you'd find a way sooner or later. Am I wrong?"

She isn't promising him that everything will get better. She isn't saying that his injuries will miraculously heal completely one day. Clair is simply telling him that even with his current physical disabilities Falkner is still an important member of the community, and she still sees him as a comrade and as a gym leader worthy of her respect. And Clair isn't the type to admit this often, which is just the icing on the cake that brings a small smile to Falkner's face.

"I like you," he breathes, blinking with shock at his own easy admonition. But he repeats it anyways. "I really like you." He was not expecting this woman of all people to coax so much as a twitch of lips out of him.

Clair rests her chin on her hand. "Usually when people shower me with gratitude, it's done with more... feeling."

"Hey! I don't even know you all that well."

He raises a valid point. They aren't friends or lovers. But Clair doesn't think it's a good enough excuse to stop throwing him barbs.

"Hmph. It's a good thing nobody else is around the cafe, otherwise you would have botched this from your self-consciousness."

Falkner is still smiling as bites his lip. It's as if he's trying to think of something witty to say in response. In the next moment, he reaches out with both arms and pulls Clair in for a hug.


End file.
